


Faux

by basiltonjeans



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Actor Simon Snow, Bisexual Simon Snow, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Gay Male Character, Human Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Writer Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21934807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basiltonjeans/pseuds/basiltonjeans
Summary: Baz and Simon are forced to work together on the set of Baz's movie. Despite not seeing each other since school, a rivalry still exists between them. Then, following an aggressive dispute ending up all over the media, a fake relationship is created in order to save the movie's triumph.Which would be fine, if Baz wasn't irreversibly in love with Simon.; the one where Baz is the director for his first movie adaptation and Simon plays the lead role.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce/Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	1. The Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> This is a new idea that I've come up with. I've written a plan so I'm hoping to stick to it! The chapters aren't going to be massive or anything but there should be ten of them if all goes to plan. This chapter is especially small as I just wanted to get the idea out there. 
> 
> I was partially inspired to write this by the book 'red, white and royal blue', which I would recommend to literally anyone.
> 
> Okay! Thank you! Hope everyone's having a lovely day!

Who decided to cast Simon bloody Snow as the male lead in the first movie adaptation of one of my books? Seriously. Who ever thought that was a good idea?

I distinctly remember Fiona’s frustration at my inability to find the perfect actor to play Jack. She became so annoyed at one point during my hunt that she specifically told me ‘not to worry about it’ and that she would ‘deal with it’. I trusted her, of course. As well as being my fun aunt who tended to act more like a slightly older sister, she was also my serious manager. She would, therefore, be able to find the perfectly fitting Jack. 

On the first day of shooting, Fiona interrupted my conversation with Agatha Wellbelove, who had given me a brilliant audition and shown herself to be the flawless female lead, Grace, that I needed. She was in the middle of thanking me for such an opportunity when Fiona said, “Sorry, please excuse us for a second,” and dragged me to the other side of the room. 

I sighed, “What’s going on now?” 

“I’ve found your Jack. He’s perfect. I think you’re going to think so too.” Honestly, I was relieved. Finding somebody to fit my vision of Jack felt like an almost impossible task. 

She pointed over to a mop of bronze curls facing in the other direction. He had a lean, muscly figure by the looks of it and a very careless sense of fashion which, although he wasn’t even dressed as Jack yet, was perfect. I slowly made my way over and tapped him on the shoulder. He was only slightly shorter than me. 

It was only when he turned, mouth parted and blue eyes wide that I realised this perfect mouth-breather was the very same Simon Snow that I went through school with. We were never close; if anything, we hated each other from a safe distance. Of course, I’d heard of Snow’s fame since school. He’d starred in several influential and popular movies. He’d done very well for himself. I doubt he even knew I was the director for this movie, or that it was based off a book I’d written. I doubt he had ever read a book before. 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” was my initial reaction to seeing his face. “Not you.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Nice to see you too, Baz.” By the lack of surprise in his expression, maybe he did know I was the director/writer. “I’m so excited to be starring as Jack in your movie,” he told me with his voice void of any emotion, so I knew he was being sarcastic. 

“Shut up.” He seemed genuinely shocked by the abruptness of my command, causing him to genuinely close his mouth. He sneered at the smirk appearing on my lips. So, he can actually listen to people. 

“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” Snow said harshly, looking me up and down as if to prove a point. 

I scoffed, “Stop checking me out, Snow.” His mouth hung open again. “And seriously, learn to close your mouth.” 

I begged Fiona to pick another actor to play Jack. It is my movie, after all. She firmly refused until she said something vaguely like, “Okay, fine, Basilton. If you want to change him that badly then do it.” But for the record, we’ll pretend she never said that – because I’m weak, and the truth is that I wanted Snow to play Jack. 

-

Now, we’re a week from finishing shooting my movie. We’ve flicked back and forth through the script, occasionally having to re-shoot scenes where Simon and Agatha’s chemistry is completely unbelievable or where Toby, playing the headmaster, speaks too fast for viewers to keep up with. 

“Snow!” I shout from my director’s seat. His head whips around to face me like a squirrel caught off guard. I’m slouching, holding a coffee in one hand with my long legs folded. “Stop scratching at your make-up,” I demand. “You’re supposed to be pale. You’re a vampire. Can you remember that?” 

“Such a dick,” He mutters. Agatha, who is stood beside him for this scene, purses her lips together to remain unnoticed. 

“What was that, Snow?” I take a sip of my coffee and watch him find the right words to say. 

“I said, thanks for the advice.” The shoulders of the cameraman beside me tense. 

I hum, tapping one foot against the ground. It’s just about the only sound in the room. “I’m sure you did.” 

The scene resumes shortly after. Jack and Grace, Simon and Agatha’s characters, are about to have an intense almost-kiss scene. It’s the first moment where Jack realises what’s really going on between them – how their relationship is more than a friendship. 

It’s going relatively smoothly. Jack and Grace kill the vampire slayer and embrace each other in celebration. Snow is supposed to pull back from the hug, grin at Agatha in triumph and then realise there’s a new sort of tension between them. Instead, he goes straight towards her, resting his forehead against hers in a way that looks rushed and lazy. 

“No, no, no!” I call out. Snow’s body visibly sags in defeat. This time I stand up, stalking over to the two of them, “What are you doing?” 

“Oh my god, Baz,” Simon sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You have a problem with literally everything I do.” 

“No, I have a problem when you go against my script or make my movie look bad.” 

“I’m just doing what feels natural to me. You said you wanted us to be more believable and I think it would be if you let me try out something different.” 

I hum, clenching my eyes shut and nodding. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” He heaves another sigh. “Look, I’m going to show you.” I instruct Agatha to play the last bit of the scene again but with me as Jack. 

On cue, I embrace Agatha with my arms around her upper body protectively. Then, I pull away with a large grin on my face, which only drops when I notice Agatha’s convincing frown. Agatha stares at my lips, then at my eyes. I hold the back of her neck carefully. It should look like we’re going to kiss any minute. 

My hand drops from the back of Agatha’s neck. “Do you see?” I say to Snow, who has a grumpy expression on his face. “And then at that point, just continue staring at each other until I say.” 

Snow mutters under his breath as he resumes his position in the scene. I know he’s complaining but when he does the scene that time, it is perfect. 

-

After the shoot, I’m outside the building waiting for Fiona to pick me up. Most of my colleagues had said goodbye as they left, wishing me a lovely evening. Agatha had stopped for even longer than that to thank me for my advice on the scenes. I didn’t mention that it is my job to do so. Snow, of course, had not said anything. It’s not like I expected him to. I’m just making a note of it. 

“Hey,” I hear a familiar voice say from behind me. Never mind, maybe I will get a goodbye. “You waiting for your babysitter to pick you up?” Or maybe not. 

“I’m waiting for my manager to pick me up. Who is also my aunt.” 

He snorts. I turn to look at him. He’s wearing black tracksuit bottoms and a jumper, looking like a tired mess – and yet he is still the most attractive boy I’ve ever seen. He’s also sucking on what could be a strawberry lace, like some sort of child. 

“Isn’t your manager your overbearing best friend from school?” I say inquisitively. He purses his lips. 

“It’s different,” he says under his breath. Before I can respond, he takes a step closer to me and asks, “Do you have any pointers on my acting today? I’m sure you do.” 

He’s asked me this before. It’s as if he thinks the more he asks me that question, the more likely I am to compliment him. He obviously doesn’t know me at all. 

“You were pretty awful.” 

“How so?” He doesn’t look insulted, just interested. His mouth is partially open as he chews on the strawberry lace. 

Where is Fiona? I’ve been waiting here for ages. 

“You have no connection to the other characters at all. Nobody would know that your relationship with the headmaster is deep, and he has been like a father figure to Jack, which is why his betrayal is such a big deal. You act the same with every character.” 

He grinds his teeth together. I can tell by the flex in his jaw. I don’t look away from him, instead watching the content expression on his face slowly turn into one of hatred. 

“Nobody else has ever had a problem with it,” he argues. I can see the genuine anger in his eyes. I shrug, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t like that response whatsoever. “I’m speaking to you,” he says, shoving my shoulder as if to get my attention. 

Our fights have never been physical before. This fact registers on his face, but it is too late – he has already shoved me. 

“Don’t touch me, Snow,” I say in a calm voice, pushing his chest slightly. My cheeks would blush if I wasn’t pissed. He moves backwards slightly, firmly planting his legs on the ground to stop himself from toppling. 

“You asshole,” Snow practically growls. He storms towards me, grabbing my collar in his fist and glaring intensely at me, as if awaiting my next move. His face is on fire. 

I don’t move an inch. I knew before this moment how Simon Snow has the tendency to erupt like a volcano. I’d heard things from school; there was a time in the canteen where Simon slammed Derek Matthews against a wall. Rumours had been going on in school that Derek had been talking romantically to Penelope Bunce, Simon’s best friend, until he decided to call it all a joke, and call her fat in the process. Snow made sure that Derek would never treat another girl like that. 

I’d watched it from across the room. I’d vaguely wondered how such a sweet, beautiful, shy boy could become this terrifying lion. Then again, I suppose we all have a limit to the amount of shit we can take on board before we explode. 

Seeing the eruption up close was something else. Simon Snow was truly the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. His jaw flexing, his cheeks reddening, his hand shaking slightly. 

If Fiona hadn’t turned up, I was sure I was going to kiss him. Either that, or I would’ve calmed him down with my hands on his warm cheeks, telling him ‘Okay, Simon, it’s okay, please’. 

Fiona rolls the window down and shouts, “Seriously, you two? You’re left alone for no time at all and you start trying to physically fight?” Simon takes another second to release my collar, his eyes wide. “Come on, get in Basilton. Simon, do you need a ride home?” 

Simon shakes his head no. I clamber into the car, slamming my head back on the seat. 

In that moment, we have no idea how much shit our dispute is about to cause. We have no idea what is to come.


	2. The Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everybody had a lovely Christmas. 
> 
> The next task is to get through NYE. I'm quite looking forward to it actually. 
> 
> I'm uploading a new chapter :) I hope you guys will like it. Also just a note that I'm not an expert on the ins and outs of being a manager or directing a movie or how things like this would play out in the real world etc. but this is fiction and I'm just working around the things I'm unsure of to make a decent story. Thanks guys!

Mornings don’t usually start this way. Usually, Fiona will come in with a big grin and a coffee, telling me to get dressed because we’re going to be late to the shoot. Things are usually pretty smooth and repetitive. 

Today is different. Fiona slams the door upon her entrance and slams something onto the bed beside me. There’s fire pouring from her ears and nose like some sort of dragon. 

“Please, Baz, tell me what the hell you were thinking!” she demands, pointing at the newspaper lying on my bed. I put my coffee down on my bedside table slowly, savouring the moments of not knowing. Countless possibilities run through my head. 

I finally unfold the newspaper and stare wide-eyed at the front page, mouth hanging open at the picture. 

We’ve been here before. The last time I was on the front page of a big newspaper, it was because my sexuality had finally been figured out. I’d never been particularly secretive about it. My family and close friends knew, of course, but with gaining a name for myself, I had to find the right way to come out all over again. That coming out was mine; my exposure, my story, my truth. And it was taken away from me. 

The media caught on. Some of my old tweets were exposed, a photo here of me with a man, a photo there of me hugging a male family friend, another of me stood outside a gay bar. Somebody was whispering to the tabloids. I never found out who, but I faced the backlash of it. 

Today’s news: Baz Pitch and Simon Snow’s Friendship Turns Aggressive. 

Two photos: one of me shoving Snow back by his chest. One of Snow aggressively holding me by my collar. 

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

“Read it,” Fiona says. She’s facing in the other direction. 

I do. The part that stands out the most is that somebody working with us has reported that Simon and I are ‘always shouting at each other during work’ and ‘always getting aggressive’. Who would do that? And then the final line of the report: ‘fans of the two are sharing their reluctance to watch and enjoy the movie, following this rivalry’. 

Fiona heaves a sigh, “This is bad, Baz.” My eyes are glued to the final line. This was supposed to be such a successful movie. This was my chance, and I’ve screwed it all up. “I don’t understand why you both have to be so . . . angry, all the time.” 

“It’s always been like that,” I say in a sad voice, as if that makes it acceptable. 

“I don’t understand, Baz. You were in love with him. All throughout school, you were smitten.” 

“Please don’t remind me,” I say, because it’s hard to hear how much love I had to give to Simon, and how he never wanted it – he never even noticed. 

I’m glad Fiona doesn’t know how much worse things are now. Times like this, I am glad I haven’t told her that I never let go of those feelings completely. 

Fiona’s phone starts ringing. She takes several moments to answer it. “It’s Penelope,” she says. Of course, Snow’s manager is also panicking about the backlash of this media storm. Fiona leaves the room to answer it. “Penny, I know. We need to fix this,” I hear her say as she goes. 

I lay back in my bed, head in my hands. 

-

Fiona and I arrive on set around an hour later. It’s been a rough hour. I haven’t checked my phone at all; I think I’m more content with never knowing what people are saying. 

As we walk through the door, I see Snow standing in the middle of the room on his phone with a frown etched onto his face. Sudden anger boils up inside of me and I can’t control myself from storming right over to him. He’s responsible for this, after all. He started the aggression. 

He looks up when I’ve nearly reached him, blue eyes wild and guilt spread across his features. I’ve got so much fury inside of me that I’m positive I could throw him across the room. 

I don’t even reach him. As I’m two steps away, Fiona grabs me by the arm and drags me in another direction. I notice Bunce doing the same to Snow, pulling us both out of the door and into a private dressing room. I pull my arm out of Fiona’s tight grasp and bring it to my chest. 

“We obviously manage two complete idiots,” Fiona says, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at me. “What were you thinking of doing there, Baz?”

I shrug, looking in another direction like a child being told off by their mum. 

“Those newspapers told us that there is somebody leaking information here. Why on earth would you go and cause more for them to expose?” 

“I’m angry, okay?” I press my lips together, willing myself to calm down. “This is my first movie. It’s supposed to be my big break. And this idiot messed it all up.” 

Snow interjects, “I don’t think I was the only person involved.” 

“No, but you decided to get aggressive.” 

“I –” he begins, sighing. I’m surprised to say he looks genuinely a bit broken. A bit guilty. Like he’s given up. The face he’s making must be one of my least favourites – it only breaks me right back to see him broken. “I’m sorry.” 

My shock at the genuine apology is quick to disappear when Penelope begins speaking. 

“You two can argue it as much as you like,” she says, eyes moving quickly between the two of us. “But what’s done is done. Now we need to fix it. For starters, you must start being nice to each other. And I mean actually nice, not passive aggressive.” 

“That’s it?” Snow says, frowning again. Why am I in love with such an idiot? 

“For now,” Fiona concludes. “We’re going to sort out a plan.” 

-

During the shoot, Snow performs a scene with one of the more minor characters, Seth, played by Anthony Fields. In this one, Jack is confronting Seth about rumours he’s created that make Grace look bad. There’s one part in the scene that always hits differently – because it came from an experience I had. 

Jack’s final line to Seth requires him to gain all attention from the other man. To do so, he slams Seth’s locker shut and says, ‘you have no idea what you’re talking about’ before storming off. It’s supposed to show Jack’s unawareness of his real feelings for Grace. He is parading around protecting her at all costs, without realising that he is in love with her. The irony is that he is the one who has no idea what he’s talking about. 

This moment is taken from a particular memory from when I was at school. If I’m remembering it right, Snow was stood at his locker. I was stood at mine, which was unfortunately almost right next to his. He was grabbing some books out of his when I turned up; he must’ve heard me or something because he moved the locker door slightly to sneakily glance at me. When he caught my eye, he wrinkled his nose up and rolled his eyes. 

“What was that look for, Snow?” I asked inquisitively, opening my own locker. There was probably a little smile on my face at the time. This was towards the beginning of me realising my unrequited love for Simon bloody Snow, so I was probably more hopeful – I was probably enjoying it a bit more. 

“I’m just tired of always seeing you around here,” he had said, not looking at me. I fished two books out of my locker before responding. 

“You know, I come here for my locker, Snow. Not you. You’re not that special.” Snow’s face turned to a delightful shade of red at this comment. I think it was more embarrassment than anger. At this point, I closed my locker and paused to see if I’d get an answer out of him. 

“You don’t always have to be so horrible.” It was a mutter under his breath, but I still caught it.

With several paces in his direction, my eyes ran over him. His pink face, his freckled cheeks, his frowning lips. I remember thinking, how dare he be so beautiful. How dare he tear me out of my normal, easy life and make me this weak? 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told him softly, because he really didn’t. I wasn’t (or rather, I’m not) a horrible person just for the sake of it – I was (I am) in love with him, and afraid to be. 

The words I spoke came out much kinder than intended. So kind in fact that he furrowed his eyebrows at me, thinking too intensely for my liking. My cheeks began to burn from the heat of being exposed to Snow like this. In response, I slammed his locker shut and stormed away. 

Luckily, I am sure Snow doesn’t recognise the scene as being influenced by that memory. I suppose it’s hardly anything like it with these different characters anyway. 

Snow performs the scene well. I am happy enough with it to finish the day there. I’m rather craving my bed. 

As I’m squatting and packing up my bag, I see a pair of shoes standing beside me. Scuffed-up trainers. Of course it’s Snow. With the knowledge that it’s him, I take my time to position my travel mug upright and grab my jacket out. 

I stand and sigh as soon as I catch eyes with him. “What do you want?” I say, slipping my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. “Aren’t we supposed to be staying away from each other? Until our managers figure something out?” 

“I believe the correct instruction was to ‘be nice to each other’.” 

“Sure it was, Snow. You just can’t help yourself.” 

He rolls his eyes, looking briefly at the ground and then back at me again. “I’m here to ask what you thought of my acting today.” 

I smirk at this, folding my arms across my chest in delight at the question, “Ha! Okay, Snow, you were –” I stop mid-sentence, eyes scanning the room in front of me. A fair few colleagues are staring over, mouths open in a gawk, prepared for today’s feeding of harsh back and forth between myself and Snow. Then I catch Fiona’s eye – she has her phone out but her gaze is locked on mine, shaking her head slightly in a warning. And finally, I look at Snow, whose smug smile makes me want to punch him. He knows I can’t say anything bad from now on. Scratching the back of my neck, I say, “not bad,” under my breath. 

“What was that?” Snow is a breath away from being karate kicked into the ceiling. 

“You,” I smile tightly, “weren’t bad.” 

“Thanks, Baz. How sweet.” His shit-eating grin is the most annoying thing I’ve seen that day. 

-

Fiona drives me, Bunce and Snow home that day. This very rarely happens, and it’s very tense in the car the whole journey home. Snow has been uncharacteristically quiet and miserable. He catches my gaze in the rear-view mirror a couple of times but is quick to look away. 

“We have to talk about this,” Bunce says finally, breaking the cold silence. Fiona pulls up on the pavement by Penelope and Snow’s house. I don’t turn around to look at her as she continues, “Fiona and I have come up with a plan. It’s what we believe is the best thing to do.” Fiona won’t look at me. “It will improve the movie’s success greatly and, from the looks of what we’ve seen on your social medias, it will improve your careers immensely too. Will give you lots more opportunities and –”

Simon interrupts her suddenly, saying in a dejected and defeated voice, “just say it, Penny.” 

My heart drops to my stomach as soon as the words are said. Fiona, avoiding eye contact with me, must know how painful this could be. Snow must’ve known before me too, as he sat feeling sorry for himself the whole way here. There’s no arguing. It’s settled: 

“You’re going to fake date each other.”


	3. The Rumour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm procrastinating from my revision to add another chapter. I hope you will like it. 
> 
> I'm off to the cinema to watch Little Women! I'm pretty excited for that. I've heard some really good things about it. 
> 
> Alright so I will be updating again asap! Thank you for reading :)

I can’t think of anything worse than having to pretend to date Simon Snow. Seeing his defeated face in the back of Fiona’s car following the knowledge of what he would be forced to do was enough to keep anyone awake. Seeing that face once I finally manage to drag myself out of bed and get to work – that’s going to kill me. 

I should probably feel more excited than I am – getting to be around Snow even more often and maybe even intimately – but it’s just going to hurt. And if his reaction was anything to go by, it’s not just going to hurt me. 

Fiona texts me to say she’s outside. I throw on a white shirt and tuck them into a pair of black jeans. Today is not a day to dress up. I’m too tired for that. Just to make it clear to everybody that I’m in a bad mood, I tie my hair up into a messy bun. 

It works. 

Fiona’s first words as I clamber into the front seat are: “Are you in a bad mood?” 

Doing up my seatbelt, I avoid looking at her, “Not particularly.” 

She starts the car up and turns on the radio, which is playing something I haven’t heard before. 

“Are you annoyed because of what you were told yesterday?” She asks. “You know, about you and Simon,” she adds, although she doesn’t need to. I’m slow to respond, gathering my words together carefully. 

“I’m not annoyed,” I tell her, and I mean it. I don’t believe this feeling is annoyance – it’s more like, I don’t know, a feeling of sadness. A tired sort of sadness, where the idea of having to pretend to date the man I would do anything for and who also believes I hate his very existence makes me want to curl up into a ball and sleep for four years. Not to mention how he hates me right back. “I just wish this didn’t have to happen.” I’m honest with her because I don’t have to energy not to be. 

“I know it’s difficult – what with your previous feelings for him at school – but it will really benefit the movie and your careers.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Then I’m less honest with her, because I don’t have to energy to explain that those teenage feelings never disappeared. “So, what now? What is today supposed to look like?” 

“Mostly the same,” she says, sending me a reassuring smile. “Just go about your day mostly completely normally but minus the aggression towards Simon. And maybe show a bit of affection, or something at least. We’re building it up slowly.” 

A bit of affection with Snow would sound like a dream in any other scenario. 

“Is that okay, Baz?” 

I don’t have the option of saying no. She says it like I do, but I know I could never argue my way out of this situation. 

“Perfect,” I lie, like I’ve been lying my whole life. 

-

Snow and Wellbelove are supposed to perform one of the biggest scenes from the entire movie today, and it is going awfully. 

This is the scene where Jack and Grace have just fought some other vampires who had turned against them. Grace is fighting the last one and when it looks as though she might lose, Jack steps in and saves her. They’re supposed to share their first kiss, and this is supposed to be a massive moment, and then as they part, a knife is thrown into Grace’s back. 

Snow and Wellbelove have zero chemistry every time they film this scene. I don’t believe that they have feelings for one another whatsoever. 

On this particular take, Snow holds Wellbelove so awkwardly that I almost scream at the top of my lungs. “Okay, okay!” I shout instead, gaining everybody’s attention. With a quick glance around the room, I catch Fiona giving me a warning stare. Be kind, Baz. “This isn’t working.” 

I unfold my long legs and stand up, making my way over to the two actors. Snow has a concerned expression across his features, as if he’s worried I’m about to shout at him and cause more drama to be reported to the press. 

“This isn’t going well,” I tell them both softly. Wellbelove is biting her lip worriedly but seems surprised to hear my gentle tone. Snow’s blue eyes are wide, and he is somewhat frozen, waiting for something to happen. 

“What should we do?” Wellbelove asks in a shy voice. 

“I’m going to show you how the scene needs to look,” I say definitively. They’re already nodding, expecting me to play the scene as Jack. Then a bold move strikes and I add, “as Grace.” 

Wellbelove is still nodding, seemingly unaffected by me taking over her character temporarily. She takes several steps back. Snow has still got a troubled expression on, his mouth now as wide as his eyes. 

I give him this look. I’m trying to communicate all the words I want to say into that one stare – come on, Snow. Play the game. Play up to the people we work with. You’re the actor. Pretend you feel more for me than hatred. 

“Okay,” Snow says, rolling his shoulders back. “Where are we going from?” 

“So you’ve just saved Grace’s life and she turns to look at you,” I command, turning my back to Snow. I take a deep breath, hoping to be swallowed into the ground. I’m unfortunately not swallowed into the ground, so instead I have no choice but to turn on my heel, acting surprised to see Snow stood there. 

He stares back at me, his mouth still hanging open. It’s his usual expression and yet perfect for playing Jack, who is also a clueless idiot most of the time. He waits for my movement. Grace acts first, then Jack. I gulp, letting out a short laugh that is supposed to be a ‘huh, you really saved my life I can’t believe this’ laugh. 

Finally, I step towards him and put a hand on the back of his neck, fingers in his messy curls. Snow is doing well to look content with this affection. He even sighs, closing his eyes briefly. My heart is close to exploding. 

I take one of Snow’s hands in mine, pressing it against my waist and he secures it there tightly. A small and quiet, “You need to keep your arm around Grace’s waist,” leaves my lips. I sound so faraway from everything else. I have no idea if Snow heard me, because he’s just staring at me with that god forbidden face and those eyes and his teeth biting into his lip. “You should look at her like that,” I instruct him. I don’t understand why he didn’t do this before. 

My shirt has slightly untucked from behind and one of his fingers has managed to slip onto the bare skin of my back. My skin burns. I need to be somewhere else, immediately. 

“And this is the point where you kiss Grace,” I tell Snow, “once you’ve built enough tension. And whilst you’re kissing, I need you to pull her even closer.” 

“Like this?” Snow asks, blinking up at me as he draws me closer using the firm hold around my waist. My body has never been this close to Simon Snow’s before. I clench my jaw, feeling the heat in the room. Snow wears the prettiest and most evil smirk that I’ve ever seen, placing his hand completely under my shirt and on the small of my back. Heat floods through me. I am the weakest I’ve ever been here, in Simon Snow’s arms. 

I manage to let out a sort of stammering, “yes, perfect,” causing Snow to smile happily and release me. I touch my messy bun uncertainly, breathing out a discrete sigh of relief. Agatha is staring quizzically in our direction. “Did that make sense, Wellbelove?” I ask her, remembering that I did that for a reason. 

She nods enthusiastically, “Yes, crystal clear.” 

One thing that’s been made crystal clear to me is that Simon Snow is a better actor than I ever thought. 

-

It takes several more takes but Snow and Wellbelove end up performing the scene well. After stepping in, Snow became much more confident with his role. I could genuinely believe that he wanted to kiss Agatha. 

When a break is called, I notice Snow standing in his same position in the scene and sighing. He’s thinking so hard that I can almost hear the wires in his brain. I stand elegantly from my director’s seat, taking long strides in his direction. He doesn’t look up until I’m right there. And when he does, his face is full of alarm. 

“Hey,” I say softly to him. The unnerved expression doesn’t change. My eyes float across the room, noticing several people with their heads turned our way – including Bunce and Fiona, who are talking to one another quietly. I reach forward slowly, delicately fixing Snow’s collar with a content smile across my lips. The smile isn’t as fake as I’d like to pretend it is. With intent in my voice, I say, “You did so well today.” 

I notice the moment that he realises I’m playing the game. His shoulders sag slightly, his face resting from it’s original panic and he coughs a bit, as if he’s trying to waste time before he has to respond. He finally comes back to reality, holding eye contact with me and saying, “That means a lot coming from you.” 

My hand drops from his collar but he catches it in his own, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles. He pulls me towards him gently and I practically swoon. My façade is breaking; I’m no longer acting at all. I am gazing at Simon in the most real way that I have maybe ever before. He’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. 

He’s so close to me that I wonder if he can hear my uncontrollable heartbeat too. With my other hand, I take a hold of his tie and carefully drag him across the room and behind a pillar that partially blocks us from at least half of our colleagues. I rest against the wall, glad to have the support in case I collapse from all of this contact. It’s safe to say I’m surprised when Snow steps closer to me than necessary, getting into my personal space and observing me like he’s never seen my face before. I’m not complaining about it. 

I lean up closer to his ear, muttering, “Great acting, Snow.” I lean back and watch his expression curiously to see if it will change, “Where did you learn to act like that?” 

“Acting school,” he says calmly. 

“Hmm,” The corners of my lip curl upwards. I twirl his tie around in my hand. “I wish you’d act this well for my movie.” 

He scoffs, mumbling, “Asshole,” under his breath. I let out a short laugh. “Same goes to you though, Mr Director. Now it’s your turn to pretend.” 

If only he knew. 

I grin instead, “Good at it, aren’t I? I’m a triple threat. Writer, director, actor. I can do anything.” 

A small, unexpected and distant smile rests against his pretty lips. “We’re really doing this then.” He is deep in thought as he speaks, “We’re really coming out as a couple to everybody.” 

“It seems that way.” 

He tilts his head to the side, watching me curiously. “How did you know then?” 

“Know what?” 

He glances from my neck to my eyes, “that you’re gay.” 

I sigh, tugging on his tie slightly and consequently pulling him closer. Oops. “We don’t have to do this.” 

He glances at my grip on his tie. “Do what?” 

“I don’t know. This. Get to know each other.” 

He reaches for the hem of my shirt. If this were how it used to be, he probably would’ve stormed off by now. “I was only asking,” he protests like a child, looking at our feet. 

I take a momentary breath, glancing around the room. When I catch eyes with several colleagues, they turn hastily and pretend to be doing something else. Fiona has a proud grin across her face. 

“I always knew. Ever since I was younger and my friends started talking about girls, I knew that wasn’t what I wanted. And then in secondary school I started developing genuine romantic feelings towards boys, so it was clear why I never felt comfortable with the idea of being with a girl.” 

“I heard at school,” Snow says, choosing his words carefully. “People used to say that you were gay. It was a really big deal, for some reason. I mean, it wasn’t to me.” 

A real smile makes its way onto my face. “And what about you then, Snow?” 

“Oh, it was nothing. I just never cared. I still don’t. I’m not really focused on the gender of somebody that I want to be with. I don’t know. Does that sound stupid?” 

I shake my head, “Not at all.” 

I think for a long time about whether the happiness on his face is real. 

-

Fiona continues to express her pride over my compliance even into the next day. She won’t stop exclaiming how believable and genuinely shocking the chemistry between Snow and I was. I don’t have the heart to tell her how much I don’t want to hear her say that. 

So, naturally, when I’m pouring myself a coffee the next day on set and a producer asks me, “Hey Baz, what’s going on with you and Simon? Are you seeing each other?” I respond with a, “I suppose I am, yes.” 

And from there, the news spreads like wildfire.


	4. The Scheme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Can't wait to find out what 2020 (a WHOLE new decade) holds. 
> 
> Enjoy this update :)

The next day at work, I hear the whispers. I can tell people are looking at us differently. They’re watching me and Snow with a fresh pair of eyes – a new perspective. They’re wondering how they didn’t realise the aggression was lust this whole time. Enemies to lovers. Hate turned to love. 

If only. 

That same day, Snow and I are outside work waiting for Bunce to come and pick us both up. We’re barely speaking save for a couple of snarky remarks. That’s all it has been all day. 

“I’m already bored of this,” Snow grumbles. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and is looking down at the ground, kicking stones like a little boy. 

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” I remark. I begin to hear repetitive clicks going off somewhere close to us. I squint but can’t see anything. 

“Where’s Penny? Has she texted you?” 

I roll my eyes, “Why would she text me if she was driving?” 

He grumbles again. Another click. My nose wrinkles as my eyes try to find the target. 

“Snow,” I say quietly. 

“What?” He’s turned his body towards me. 

Bingo. 

I find the target. 

There, crouched in between a bin and a large bush at the far end of the small car park, is a man holding a large camera. Pointed in our direction. 

I act quickly, reaching out my hand for Snow’s. He stares at it, dumbfounded, so I fish for it. His is rough in my hand, his fingers entwining through my own. He looks lost, like a puppy. With my free hand, I delicately brush a curl out of his face. He tries to follow the movements of my hand. Beautiful. Click. Click. Click. 

“Can you hear that?” I ask him.

He furrows his eyebrows, “What?” 

“Don’t look anywhere except for at me,” I demand firmly. He nods obediently straight away. “There’s a pap in the bushes across the car park taking photos of us. It’ll look less real if he gets a shot of us noticing the camera.” 

Snow gulps. I watch the movement on his neck. “What do we do then? Just stand here and stare at each other until Penny gets here?” 

“Unless you want to start tonguing in front of him too,” I say sarcastically, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth, my cheeks burn with the thought of actually getting to do that. I look towards the building in hopes of Snow not noticing my embarrassment. “Yes,” I clear my throat. “We’ll just wait until Bunce gets here.” 

Snow scratches the back of his head and rubs his thumb across my knuckles and down the back of my hand. I watch him curiously. 

“Well,” he shifts his weight onto a different leg. Why does he have a constant inability to stand still? “Do you want to see a funny video?” 

“Snow, no, I don’t want to see a stupid video –” 

As I’m complaining, Snow is grabbing his phone out of his pocket and turning on the screen, scrolling to find it. He’s got such a lovely smile on his face that I don’t want to do anything that might change it. 

“Here!” He steps closer to me, his arm practically resting on my chest as he tilts the phone for the both of us to see. “Can you see it?” He asks, touching his hip against my front. 

“Yes,” I gulp. He’s so close that I can smell his soap. 

He presses play, already quiet giggles leaving his mouth. 

The video is a puppy trying to get up an escalator that’s going down. The puppy is cute. The video is funny. But what’s better than all of that is Snow’s reaction, which is complete joy and happiness. His smile. His eyes. His little laughs. Beautiful. 

He clicks it off, the smile still blinding me as he turns, “Did you like it?” 

I allow a small grin to grace my face. Snow’s eyes flicker from my mouth to my eyes. “It wasn’t bad,” I tell him, not prepared to spoil his content with my usual rudeness. 

“I thought so.” He glances at our hands and then back to me, opening his mouth to say something else. 

“Get in boys!” A shout comes from the car park. Bunce, parked a few cars away from us, pokes her head out of the window and grins. 

As we’re walking towards the car, Bunce runs her inquisitive eyes over our clasped hands. She shoots Snow a silent message through that look in her eyes. 

Snow releases my hand as he goes around the car to get in at the other side. I frown, shoving my hand into my pockets in hopes of ignoring the nagging pain in my chest. Glancing up, I notice Bunce staring at me with this glint in her eyes, like she knows something I don’t. 

-

When I get into Fiona’s car the next morning, her phone is lying open on my seat. I pick it up and place it into my lap, running my eyes over the screen. 

Two photos: one of me and Simon holding hands and staring at each other. Another of us both watching the video on his phone and smiling. 

We look happy. I could genuinely believe that we were if I didn’t know the truth behind those looks. What could be mistaken for everlasting love on my soppy face is really everlasting unrequited love. What could be mistaken for Snow being lost in thoughts of love towards me is realistically just him being lost in his own thoughts. 

I skim across the article and read about everybody’s speculation on the nature of our relationship. Then I find myself in the comment section, where people are arguing every which way. The few comments expressing their doubt over our relationship hit the most; what more are we going to have to do? 

“Very good, Baz,” Fiona praises me. “Don’t you think this is great?” 

“Sure,” I smile weakly. I wish I could tell her the truth. Or, I wish she already knew so that I wouldn’t have to. 

“We might have to punch it up a little soon. Just to make sure everybody is onboard.” She shrugs, “I’ll have to talk to Penelope.”

We’re not even close to this little scheme being over. It’s only just beginning, and I’m almost done with it. 

-

Something catches my eye when I call for a break during our shoot. Snow and Wellbelove don’t move from their positions on set. They just turn to each other and immediately begin talking. Snow immediately starts cracking jokes and Wellbelove immediately starts blushing and giggling. 

It seems that this scheme is not only affecting me. 

Whilst I’m unable to escape my torturous feelings for this idiot by pretending to be in a relationship with him, Snow is unable to express new feelings towards someone else. 

It hurts when I see Snow making Wellbelove laugh. Flirting with her. Making her cheeks turn pink. She pushes his arm lightly, her hand lingering there, and I can tell he notices by the chuffed grin spreading across his cheeks. 

I look away. 

Minutes later, Snow is joining me by the coffee. He slowly saunters over, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets and looking sheepish. 

“Hey,” he says. 

I roll my eyes, not responding. 

He furrows his eyebrows, “What have I done?” 

I can’t really be angry at him. We’re not actually together. 

“Baz?” 

No. That’s not it. I’m just jealous. Hopelessly jealous of Snow’s obvious feelings for Wellbelove. 

“You’re going to ruin this plan with your stupidity,” I tell him, my voice low. 

I might as well pretend I’m angry for the real reason, but differently. 

“What? I –” He stutters. “That’s why you’re angry?” His shoulders sag, a sigh escaping his lips. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” I scoff. “We’re supposed to be convincing people here. How is that supposed to happen when you’re flirting with Wellbelove plain as day?” 

“I –” he stops speaking, reaching forward and placing a hand on my hip. My body flinches as an unprepared reaction. His touch makes me feel warmer immediately. “Baz,” he says softly. I can see his teeth grinding together slightly. He whispers, “How are we supposed to convince people if you’re always shouting at me?”

He has a point. 

I don’t respond immediately so he squeezes my hip and says, “Hmm?” 

“Fine.” 

I reach up and wrap my arms around his shoulders. His bronze curls brush against my hands, but I’m not at the point where I feel like I can touch his hair and refrain myself from taking it further than that. His face is close, and yet not close enough. 

“I hate you,” I say to him in an attempt to keep some dignity. 

“Right back at you,” he says, a fake smile on his face. I can tell it’s fake because it doesn’t even nearly reach his eyes. 

“You’re seriously the dumbest person I’ve ever met.” 

“You’re the rudest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Being rude is better than being dumb.”

He cocks his head to the side, “I can’t help my intellectual abilities. You can help being rude.” 

“No, I can’t. It’s in my nature.” 

“Well take it out then.” 

I roll my eyes, “See, this is what I mean.” 

“And that is what I mean. Rude,” he responds. He’s better at insults when he’s this close to me. He’s managed to avoid um-ing and ah-ing since he put his hands on me. 

Maybe there’s some reason behind that. 

He gasps, “Did I just beat Basilton Grimm-Pitch in a verbal argument?” 

I sigh, letting go of him and pushing him only slightly in a way that could be played off as friendly. Snow knows it’s not, but it does nothing to wipe the smirk off his face. 

I call everybody back for the next shoot to avoid having to speak to him anymore. 

-

The following day is the final shoot of the movie. Thank god. I’m glad to get a break from Snow – or, at least not have to see him every day. 

The final few scenes show Jack walking home from Grace’s funeral. It’s a dragged-out scene with a lot of emotional music in the background. He gets home, goes up to his room, lays on the bed, and then the camera slowly pans over to Grace sat on the windowsill asking, “How was it?” They managed to fool everyone into thinking she had died. 

It’s supposed to be the big twist, so I’m striving for perfection with this one. I struggle to keep my cool when Snow’s sadness is not believable enough or when he makes eye contact with the camera as he’s walking. Finally though, it’s over. I’ve survived the day and the whole shooting experience with minimal casualties. Well, the casualties are just me and Snow, I guess. 

Everyone’s cheering to celebrate the end of an era. I stand up from my director’s chair, clapping along with everyone else. People start taking photos. Wellbelove pulls Snow towards her for a celebratory photo. 

“Baz,” one of the producers says. “We should get some photos of you with the cast.” 

I nod with fake enthusiasm, strolling over to where the photos are being taken. I end up in a photo between Wellbelove and Snow. As we’re being told to squeeze in closely together, a hand taps my back and I turn to find Bunce gaining both mine and Snow’s attention. 

“You guys,” she whispers, low enough that only we can hear, “better make this good.”

She leaves, and Snow and I briefly glance at each other, his cheeks a delightful rosy colour. 

Snow puts his arm around my shoulder. Click. Click. He pulls me closer towards him and I stumble slightly. Click. I snake my arm around his waist. Click. Click. He one-ups me by leaning closer to me and resting his head against my shoulder comfortably. Click. Click. Click. Perfect. 

We’re told to take photos with more of the cast. Several side-characters who had been at Grace’s funeral but are now dressed in their normal clothes come towards us. They’re all smiles and hugs. I’m positioned in the middle with Snow still attached to my side. 

“Smile!” The cameraman chirps. Click. I look at the rest of the cast behind me. Click. Snow’s side profile is obscenely beautiful. It’s unfair really. His jawline is perfectly sculpted, his lips a perfect curve. Click. Click. I’m fascinated by a particular mole on his pink cheek. He’s still smiling like the sun. Click. I lean in slowly and target the mole, pressing my lips gently against his warm skin and kissing him there. I do it because I can. Because it will help our fake relationship, and because I want to.  
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

Perfect.


	5. The Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new upload! It's pretty short but I hope you like it. 
> 
> My exams are in the coming week so I won't be writing much at all. Still, I hope everyone has a lovely couple of weeks (I'll be buried underneath tons of books in my room) xx

The photos of Simon and I blow up social media. All along my timeline, photos zoomed in on the two of us stood close together. Me smiling at him, him smiling at me, our arms touching and me kissing the mole on his cheek. 

The love in my eyes when I look at him makes me feel sick. How does he not know? How could anyone not realise? There’s nothing fake about my affections. I’m not acting. 

I see so many tweets celebrating our romance, saying they ‘ship us so hard’ and ‘want us to get married’. It’s heart-warming to see the support, regardless of whether the scheme is real or not. This is the type of support I could receive in the future with somebody who really likes me back (although I won’t admit how difficult it is to imagine myself with anyone but Simon). 

I get a phone call from Fiona and answer it apprehensively. “Hello?” 

“Have you been online?” she says immediately. No greeting. “Everything is going very well. Lots of people on board.” 

“Great,” I say with zero enthusiasm. 

She pauses for so long that I wonder if she’s gone. Then, she announces, “It’s date night tonight.” 

I sit up in bed, crossing my legs in front of me, “What does that mean?” 

“You’re going on a date with Simon. I’ve booked a table for two at The Cupid. You like it there, don’t you?” 

“I did, yeah.”

“Don’t be so grumpy, Basilton. It’ll be nice,” she says in a chirpy tone that I hate. “You need to pick Simon up and be there by 8:00.” 

“Why do I have to pick him up?” 

“He doesn’t have a car? He can’t walk there? It’ll look good if you arrive there just the two of you?” She offers. I run a hand over my face. 

“So just a date, yeah? A pretend date?” 

“Make it look good, Baz. You’re going on a talk show together next weekend. You need to put your game face on for this.” 

I let out a long sigh, making sure that Fiona hears it. And then I ask, “Anything else?” 

“Yes,” she says. “Do you want to grab some coffee?” 

Despite myself, a small smile spreads across my cheeks, “I’d love to.” 

-

I’m wearing one of my favourite outfits and now that I’m in the car waiting outside Simon Snow’s house, I’m not sure why I am. This isn’t a real date. He doesn’t really want to be sat enduring fake romance with me when he could be doing better things like being handsome in the comfort of his own home. 

I check myself in the car mirror. I’m wearing black suit trousers with pinky-red flowers patterned on them and a black shirt tucked in. The suit jacket is in the back of the car but I’m debating leaving it off for the night. It might be a tad too much. 

Snow finally emerges from his house and rushes towards the car. He looks unfairly handsome in a pair of navy suit trousers and a tucked-in white shirt. His curls are unruly. He wanders around the car and I have to stop myself from gawking at him. When he hops in, he does up his seatbelt and exhales without a word to me. 

Finally, he says, “Hey, Baz.” He looks nervous. 

“Hey, Snow,” I respond. He is the most good-looking idiot I have ever seen. 

I start the car up and begin navigating us towards the restaurant. 

“This is going to be interesting,” he says. “I’ve never been to this place before.” 

“It’s quite posh, so you need to start working on your manners now.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” he says but not with a lot of malice. He looks out of the window and brushes the palms of his hands against his trouser legs. 

“It’s nice,” I say conversationally, just for something to say to avoid the silence. “This restaurant. I’ve been there before.” 

“On one of your dates?” He looks as though he didn’t mean to say that. 

“No, my father took me last year.” 

He hums. Five minutes pass. Maybe more, before I’m pulling into the car park. I struggle to find a parking space close to the restaurant and in the meantime, Snow is making eye contact and alerting several members of the public of our arrival. 

I pull into a space just around the corner from the restaurant. A couple of people crowd at the front of my car. 

“Look what you’ve done,” I say to Snow and he makes a face at me before undoing his seatbelt and hopping out of the car. 

Before I can open the car door for myself, Snow is around my side of the car holding his hand out to me. I slip my hand into his and step out of the vehicle. His hand is warm in mine, but it doesn’t last long, as he is quickly letting go to wrap his whole arm around my waist protectively. I can’t help the colour that rises in my cheeks.

He closes the door with his other hand and I lock it with the key now in my pocket. Leading us around the side of the building, Snow glances back and waves at the group of people by our car. They gush in response. 

Inside the building, a short man in a purple waistcoat beams at us from behind a small desk. He must’ve known we were coming. He gestures us towards him, and Simon guides us there, tightening his grip on my waist. When we reach the other side of the desk, the man smiles even more. 

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr Pitch and Mr Snow,” he says, holding out his hand to Simon and shaking it firmly. He does the same to me. 

“The pleasure is ours. This restaurant is incredible,” I say smoothly, placing my hands against the desk. “I’ve been dying to bring Simon here.” 

I glance at Snow but he’s already smiling at me. His cheeks are a nice shade of pink, bringing out his delightful freckles and his blue eyes are shining. For once, he is completely unreadable. He stands slightly behind me and wraps his other arm around my waist, meeting the other one in the middle. I am trapped in Simon Snow’s arms. He leans his head slightly forward, close to my own. I’m sure being trapped has never felt so good. 

“It’s an honour,” the man responds, his grin unwavering. “Would you like to be seated somewhere private or . . .?” 

“Whatever is easiest for you,” Snow responds. His voice vibrates against my back. 

The man picks up two menus and gestures for us to follow him. Snow lets go of me and brushes my hand very deliberately, almost as a comforting reminder he’s there, whilst he starts to follow the waiter. I can’t help but wonder why, as the waiter has his back to us and there is nobody else here to convince. 

We are ushered through the restaurant, causing a couple of people to nudge their companions and point at us, and taken into a more private room. There are only five people in this room; a family of three and a couple holding hands across the table. They seem too wrapped up in their own business to notice us. Perfect. We are seated in the corner against the wall, which means we blend in well. Perfect again. 

Snow rushes ahead to pull out my chair. I hide my slight blush by pushing my hair back and avoiding eye contact with him. I sit as he pushes the chair in and then he sits himself across from me. 

The waiter hands us the menus and asks, “Would it be possible to get a photo with you both after your meal?” 

“Of course,” Snow says politely and I nod in agreement. 

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to decide.” 

I gaze over the choices on the menu although I’m fairly sure I already know what I’m getting. 

“This is way too posh for me,” Simon complains although his face doesn’t show his grumpiness. I realise he’s keeping up a joyous expression for appearances. 

“Try not to eat like a child when we get the food,” I say, flashing him a mean smirk – which could be seen as flirtatious or something to any onlookers. “Although I know that will be hard for you.” 

“This must be so hard for you – to act like a nice human being all the time.” 

“It’s very difficult, Snow. Especially trying to pretend you’re not the most annoying person to walk this earth.” I’m not technically lying. He is annoying. Annoyingly beautiful. Annoyingly perfect. Annoyingly not-in-love-with-me. 

He wrinkles his nose at the menu, “What are you getting? Should we share a starter or something?” 

“I’m getting bruschetta for starter. Do you know what that is?” I say in a neutral voice. 

“Yes,” he says, rolling his eyes, then muttering, “Penny gets it all the time.”

“Shall we share that then?” 

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “What about main? I might get a risotto. Is that the pasta dish or rice dish?” 

I sigh heavily, although I’m actually quite endeared by his stupidity. I always have been. “Rice. I’m going to get the lasagne.” 

“Okay, I’ll go with risotto,” he slams the menu closed and holds it against his chest. 

The waiter returns with a bottle of white wine on the house. Snow swirls it in his glass, smells it and tastes a tiny sip like he’s probably seen in movies. We tell the waiter our orders and he rushes off. 

“So, did Bunce dress you for this evening?” I ask, grinning mischievously. 

He’s in the middle of taking a sip of wine but glares at me with squinted eyes. I avoid looking at the top of his exposed chest where the top buttons have been left undone. A pang of jealousy races through me at the thought that Bunce came up with that idea and had the opportunity to freely ogle him. 

“She didn’t dress me,” he snarls. “She just gave me ideas of what to wear.” 

“So she left your outfit on the bed and you had no say in it,” I say, smirking over my wine glass. His eyes glance from my glass to my own eyes. 

“Can we stop talking about my clothes?” He says exasperatedly. 

I smile despite myself, looking down at my wine glass and swirling it around before taking a sip. 

We sit in a relatively comfortable silence until our shared starter comes. I suppose one good thing about being with Snow is that the silence is never necessarily awkward. It’s just our norm. 

I cut off a bit of the bruschetta with my knife and pop it into my mouth. It’s as good as I remember. 

“Are you eating?” I say, looking up at Snow. His eyes look slightly glazed over and I realise his large glass of wine is empty. I snort quite unattractively, “Are you drunk?”

“I –” he picks up his own knife and fork and avoids looking me in the eyes again. “I haven’t eaten since lunch time and that was a large glass of wine.” 

“And you’re a lightweight,” I comment, and he shakes his head but doesn’t disagree. 

He takes a bite of the starter. His face forms an expression of satisfaction. “This is good,” he says and I hum in agreement. 

“So, tell me, Snow,” I say, continuing to tuck into the starter. “How are things with Wellbelove?” 

He has more bruschetta in his mouth but still manages to groan and sit back in the chair, as if the question has deflated him like a balloon. I would feel guilty if I wasn’t dying to know the answer. 

When he’s finally swallowed the food, he shakes his head, “There are no things.” 

“That can’t be true,” I respond, thinking back to how things were at work. “I have eyes.” 

He shrugs and cuts another bit of the bruschetta. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and put my cutlery down, deciding to leave the rest   
for him. He seems to need to sober up a bit anyway. “I liked her for a while and she seemed to like me. We kissed a couple of weeks back after work.” 

I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. I wonder if he would be telling me this if he was less tipsy. “What happened?” 

He looks up at me with a deadpanned expression, then gestures between the two of us using his knife. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs again. “I don’t know. I’m not that mad about it. I don’t think it would’ve worked after all.” 

I can see that. Not just because I want Snow for myself, but because of the constant issue with chemistry throughout the weeks of filming. We were always rerecording scenes, growing frustrated at the inability to believe they had any attraction towards each other. If they couldn’t do it for their jobs (which they are actually good at), then, I don’t know, I don’t see it working. 

Maybe my opinion is too biased though. 

“Yeah, maybe not,” I say, pouring myself another glass of wine and a small one for Snow. I decide not to say anything more on the subject. 

“What is your love life like then?” Snow asks suddenly and I almost spit out my sip of wine right across the table. Instead, I cough and set the glass carefully down. 

“Um,” I run my hand through my hair and search for the right words. “I’m just focusing on my career at the moment.” What a pathetic excuse. It’s better than the truth though. 

He offers me a small smile, setting his cutlery down too. “That’s a good idea.” 

If only he knew. 

-

The rest of the meal goes rather smoothly with minimal insults being passed across the table. I try not to stare too much when Snow claims he’s getting hot and opens another button on his top. I try not to act too pleased when Snow, in his tipsy state, lets slip that he likes my floral suit. I try not to let myself pretend this could be real. I fail. 

We take several photos with the waiters and waitresses at the end of the meal. At one point, the chefs even make their way over to be involved. We grin, hold our faces close together, hold each other and at one point, Snow gives my cheek the most delicate kiss. The blush on my face is so far from fake. 

We rush back to my car in the rain. Snow holds his jacket over our heads like it’s some sort of cape. He looks so stupid doing it that I tip my head back, laughing louder than I ever have in front of Snow. At one point, I have to stop because I’m beginning to get a stitch. He responds by wrapping his arms around my torso in an attempt to drag me to the car. His hair is already damp when he presses his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder, spreading his hands flush against my back. Our clothes are getting drenched but Snow is still determined. He’s giggling into my neck and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. I can feel the vibrations of his laughter against my own chest as he pulls me into him. 

Finally, he turns and draws me towards the car by the arm still around me. I follow him powerlessly, still laughing into the sky.

We reach the car and jump in, both exploding into fits of giggles. Camera flashes come from outside the front window and I gasp, although I shouldn’t really be surprised that we have been found. 

Snow’s smile is electric. He leans across the middle of the car and into my space, a hand touching my thigh and sending impulses down my leg. The hand moves to the side of my neck and from there, he strokes my cheek with his thumb. He reaches further towards me and whispers hotly into my ear, “I’m going to try something. Go with it.” 

At first, I wonder if he is going to kiss me on the lips. I don’t think I have the ability to control myself if he does. Instead, he tilts my head to the side and presses his lips to my neck. I bite my lip to conceal my grin as a warmth runs down me. He presses his lips closer to my ear this time and I reach around with my hand to hold his curls. 

I barely get a chance to touch them before a flash is going off behind my closed eyes and I remember where we are, what we’re doing, why we’re doing it and who is watching. 

“We should go,” I say suddenly. Snow pulls his head back to look at me. His eyes are glazed over, his hair damp and his cheeks red. I can’t even describe how perfect Simon Snow is. His mouth is open and he breathes out of it heavily, nodding when he sees the serious look in my eyes. He returns to his side of the car slowly, slouching and gazing out of the window. 

I start the car and drive off, desperately needing a break from Simon Snow. I can’t breathe properly like this.


	6. The Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a short while since I last uploaded, which I'm sorry about but I've been SO busy. I'm spending what little time I have to myself sleeping (or procrastinating). That's why the chapter is also a little on the short side. Sorry! 
> 
> I am, however, also working on something else. A long one-shot, maybe? I can't decide. More on that later. 
> 
> Thank you! I hope everyone has a brilliant week.

Despite my feelings towards the whole suffocating situation, I gave Snow my number so that he can contact me if he has to. I made him convince me to give it to him, even though I’d been waiting for him to ask since we first met. I suppose I would’ve preferred it if he genuinely wanted my number so that we can speak to each other, rather than it being about our publicity scheme. 

I suppose I can’t complain. 

It’s the day of the first interview Snow and I are doing together. It’s likely to be the only one, thankfully. For now. In most promotional interviews, Snow and Wellbelove are going as the powerful leading duo. If it means I can stay away from the limelight and avoid talking about this stupid scheme, then I don’t mind one bit. 

We turned up together this morning. I picked him and Bunce up, and the four of us, Fiona included, sat there awkwardly for the majority of the long car journey. The rest was filled with the girls dishing out stern advice about how we should be acting. 

Now I’m sat alone in my dressing room going over the story in my head and reassuring myself that it will be fine. I don’t know where Fiona is, but she’s not here. Snow was pushed into another dressing room away from mine, which I am not super happy about, but I can’t exactly get into a tantrum about it. 

I’m staring at my reflection in the large mirror on my dressing table. My pale skin is brought out even more by the pink of my shirt. I’ve left a couple of buttons down, because I feel like it’s part of my style now (I saw a fashion magazine talking about it the other day). There’s an odd bit of make-up on my face, too, but it looks quite natural. Okay. Maybe I’m a bit nervous. 

The door creaks open and I expect it to be Fiona, so I don’t react. I’m surprised when I glance through the mirror and see Snow creeping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He makes eye contact with me in the reflection and gives me a lopsided grin. 

I swivel around in my chair just as he makes his way over to the sofa and slumps onto it. He’s wearing a nice blue polo shirt and it’s tucked into a pair of checked grey trousers. He looks handsome. 

“What have you done?” I ask. He lets out a deep sigh and tips his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“Nothing, actually. I just needed to escape Penny. She keeps hounding me and I can’t relax.” 

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. He glances at me, at my shirt and then at the ceiling again. 

“Are you worried about coming out like this?” 

He shakes his head slowly, “I’m basically out. I don’t mind people knowing. I just worry about interviews and getting things wrong and messing up.” 

“Do you remember our story?” 

He sits up in his seat and rolls his shoulders back, “So,” he clears his throat. “Obviously we went to school together, and we had a little bit of a thing when we were younger. It was quite special. Luckily for us, we met again during the shoot of the film, and started it up again.” 

“Who asked out who?” 

“The first time, in secondary school, we started hanging out as friends and it developed into something more. There weren’t really any dates. The second time, during the film shoot, I asked you out.” 

I nod thoughtfully, “I don’t get why you’re the one who asked me out in this stupid story.” 

“I think it makes sense,” he says quietly. His phone goes off, which saves me from having to answer. He slips it out of his pocket and sighs at the screen. “It’s Penny, she’s going mad looking for me.” He starts typing something, then turns it off and directs his attention back to me. “I told her where I am.” 

“We should probably go,” I tell him. He runs a hand through his hair and nods a couple of times, processing my words. 

“Okay.” He stands up at the same time as me.

“Don’t be nervous, Snow.” I’m not sure where our boundaries are anymore. What am I allowed to say? “I’ll be there.” 

His mouth forms into a small smile, which I’m delighted at. “I know,” he says softly. I don’t know what to do with this new tension in the air. 

We step towards the door and as he goes to grab the handle, I pull him by his arm and he stumbles slightly in my direction. 

“Sorry,” I mumble, letting go of his arm abruptly. “I was just –” I reach up and adjust his collar, which had folded in the wrong place. As I’m sorting it, my cheeks burn red from all of the attention he is giving me. His eyes are focused solely on me. I can’t handle this. 

The door swings open and Bunce stands there with her hand on her hip, singing, “Come on, lovebirds!” Her face drops when she notices the tension in the room and she furrows her eyebrows, eyes shifting between the two of us dubiously. “Wait,” she says. “Actually –?” 

“We need to get ready to go on,” I interrupt her abruptly. Thankfully, Fiona takes this moment to join us, throwing her hands up in the air when she sees all three of us. 

“Guys! We kind of have a whole interview to do right now.” She takes my arm and begins tugging me in the direction we should be going. 

I gulp, glancing back at Snow and seeing he’s muttering quickly and quietly to Bunce, pulling at his curls in frustration. 

-

The interviewer, Sarah Hick, beckons us onto the stage together. The audience stands up to applause and we wave simultaneously, making our way to the sofa beside Sarah. She’s smiling widely as she leans in to greet us. 

It’s hard to notice the rather large audience with all the cameras and flashing lights around. I settle myself onto the sofa, folding one leg over the other to remain composed. 

The first part is easy. Sarah wants to know about the movie. Snow and I take it in turns to talk about it, both dishing out interesting facts that might be good for publicity. She plays a video clip of one of the moments in the movie. It’s a scene between Snow and Wellbelove at school, talking about how suspicious things are becoming. 

“It looks amazing, guys. You look brilliant,” she says to Snow, which makes him smile in contentment. “So, there’s something that I have to ask about.” Here we go. The tension in the air is thick. “There has been particular speculation about the nature of your relationship together.” 

Snow sits up in his seat slightly. There’s a hum of noise across the audience. The screen behind us flashes up with photos. I twist in my seat to peer at them. There’s three: one of us holding hands outside our place of work, the one of me kissing Snow’s cheek on the final day of shooting and of course, Snow kissing my neck in the front of my car after our restaurant date. The audience gets even louder and Sarah has to calm them down with a finger to her lips. 

“Yes, it does look slightly suspicious from those photos,” I smirk, resting my elbow on the arm of the sofa, and glancing at Snow, who is also supressing a grin. “It does seem like there’s something going on, doesn’t it, Snow?” 

He hums, letting out a little laugh. “It does seem interesting.” 

Sarah barks out a laugh and presses, “Come on, you can’t leave us like that. Fans are dying to know.” 

I huff out a pretend exasperated sigh, “Okay, I suppose we can confirm,” I look over at Snow and can’t help the delighted smile on my face. It’s completely real. I wouldn’t be able to fake anything this well unless there was an ounce of hope in me that wished it were true. He’s smiling so brightly that it reaches his eyes. “We are dating,” I say. 

The penny drops. The audience actually cheers, and Sarah is laughing along and clapping. I look out at the eyes on me and feel a warm hand slip into mine, lacing his fingers around mine. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. We’ve done it. We’ve set the trap. There’s no going back now. 

“So how did this happen? Tell us more about it.” 

I nod to Snow, “You tell the story. You’re much better at it.” 

He clears his throat and begins to recite our fake story, the exact same way he did to me in my dressing room. It sounds convincing. I almost let myself believe it’s real. I wonder how different my life would’ve been if Snow had really become my boyfriend in secondary school. Would we have still met on the set of my movie, or would I have employed him myself, wanting my boyfriend to work alongside me? 

“. . . and then we just rekindled things from there.” Snow finishes the story and the audience is in awe. 

“Who asked who out?” 

“I asked him,” Snow says quickly with a small smile. 

I roll my eyes, “He loves the fact that he got there before I did. It’s like some competition or something.” We make eye contact, and it’s so disgustingly loving that I have to look away. 

Sarah asks, “So Baz, if you don’t mind me asking, what has it been like for you being openly gay and in the limelight?” 

Oh no. This is real. There’s no lie here for me to adapt. This is a real question about my real experience. 

Snow squeezes my hand and it clenches at my heart. “It wasn’t easy at first. I didn’t always receive a lot of kindness. But amongst all of the hate and harshness of it all, there were some real fans who genuinely cared about what I had to say, and family and friends who still loved me.” Sarah is nodding along to everything I say, really listening to each word. I add, “And Simon.” He’s got an unreadable expression behind his eyes. “So, it all seems pretty worth it.” 

It’s going so well. Everything is good and nothing has gone wrong yet. 

Snow is asked about his own sexuality, and he explains the carelessness of his attraction towards other people. He explains that he doesn’t care about the gender of who he loves, he just loves them. 

It’s rounding up and finally beginning to end, and I’m so thankful that we’ve gotten through this. Still with his hand in mine, we stand for an applause and cheer from the audience. I must be feeling pretty daring, because I begin to turn my head, planning on kissing Snow’s cheek. At that same moment, Snow decides to turn to me too, probably with the same intention. There we stand, staring at each other with our faces close together and realising the same thing. We have to kiss now. It would be too awkward not to. 

It registers on his face. Panic rises and the colour his face changes. Maybe to people watching, it will just look bashful. 

My heart is thumping in my chest and I’m starting to panic. I’m about to lean in and quickly give Snow a painless peck on the lips just to save us both when all of a sudden, he’s closing his eyes and pressing his lips to mine himself. He’s still got his hand in mine and he’s squeezing it tightly. His lips are warm against my own. He stays like that for several seconds before pulling back. 

His eyes are wide and lips parted, as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. I squeeze his hand to alert him that he’s being too obvious. He gulps and I watch his Adam’s apple move before he leans back in and presses a softer, lighter and much more prepared kiss to my lips. My heart stutters at the intimacy of it. And yet, the impressiveness of the second kiss cannot erase the awkwardness of the first. It’s out there now, for all the world to see. 

When he pulls back, he gives me a small smile, but I can still see the panic in his eyes. Sarah comes over to wish us luck with the movie and our relationship, and we wander off of the stage. There, behind the curtain, away from so many prying eyes, Snow releases my hand and stalks off in another direction.


End file.
